Remnant’s First Crusade
by HendrixHeights
Summary: Among the good and evil of Remnant lies a group willing to do anything to escape it, even ritualistic sacrifice. Now they have a way to summon a prophet from a far away land that will guide them to Paradise. But will they be able to fulfill their goal?
1. Paradise Lost

Remnant's First Crusade

**Chapter 1: Paradise Lost**

"Whether men lie, or say true, it is with one and the same object." - Darius I

It was a cloudy night. Normally, rituals wouldn't take place in such foreboding and treacherous weather, where one risked angering the man in the sky. Lightning, of course, had a way of putting a damper on plans, but it would also bring about a swathe of new problems; wind, rain, and discouragement, all had potential for burning out the flame in the hearths of everyone attending the ceremony.

It would make one ask the question as to why, especially in such blasphemous conditions, would they take part in something so routine? The Caster, in all his power and majesty, had ordered it. No one challenges the Caster. He is us. We are him. He is the one who will take us to Paradise. A Paradise long forgotten after the arrival of the Grimm, or the Plaguemongers, as the Caster had taken to calling them.

Countless of those before us were taken by such monsters in search for our goal. Tonight, however, will be the night where it shall change forever. The Caster said so.

We all gathered in the temple for the ritual. It is never crowded, for the Caster had foreseen so many of us in his vision to come to his aid, and planned accordingly. As necessary, there are no chairs, no rugs. Only the warmth that breathes life and fire in us is what prevents the freezing cold. The stone thrones at the mantle are reserved for the Caster and his three blessed children, the Magistrates.

We sit and bow at the altar before us. We praise the Almighty Sol. It is through He that we are able to convene, even under the shroud of the moon and his cohorts. Others whisper and mumble curses at the deity, hateful of its shared existence with Sol. I say nothing, knowing speaking during praise is grounds for a flogging.

The Magistrates walk out. Even under their robes, their faces concealed by Luna's spite, they are beautiful. Their eyes, like all of ours, glow like beacons in the darkness. They shine brighter than all of us, and most of all, brighter than Luna. They take their seats with revered elegance. I dare not speak their names. In praise and times of ritual, speaking of the names of the Caster and his Magistrates are forbidden. Such a shame; I can not help but want to scream out their names, hoping that the Almighty can hear how wonderful they are. But I know better.

The Caster, his eyes as red and glorious as though he himself were the Promised Land, walks out once the praise is finished. He places the Divine Tome upon the pedestal overlooking the altar. His staff, no doubt overflowing with his power as well, is set aside by one of the Magistrates. Like his children, the Caster is shrouded by Luna's spite underneath the cloak. However, there is one detail that shows us mortals why the Caster is not to be questioned, trifled with, or disrespected.

His horns. Long, sharpened, and likely able to skewer a gigantic beast in one stake.

Unlike previous gatherings, the Caster does not open the Tome. Instead, he briefly leaves the pedestal and faces us. We wait in anticipation for his word.

"My children," said he, a voice booming and magnificent, "You all must know that as always, my gratitude for your attendance knows no bounds. It brings myself and my Magistrates great comfort knowing that you choose to follow us.

"I am sure many of you have noticed that tonight is not the most… ideal time for an assembly, but I assure you that what happens tonight will be all the more made up for my shortcomings."

The Caster clears his throat before retrieving his staff and addressing us once more, "I had communicated with Sol during one of my meditations. He came bearing a message, one that I'm sure many of you would be overjoyed to know about."

We perk up our ears on cue. Several hoods shuffle, our Faunus brethren utilizing their keener senses.

"There is a way we can all achieve salvation from this cursed world and advance to Paradise. A prophet – for which we will summon ourselves – will be delivered unto our plane and be our key that unlocks such a door. Tonight's ritual will be unlike many others: Sol requires more blood than before. In order to appease him, five of you must be sacrificed for this summoning to occur." The Caster held up five fingers as he said this, his tone still wistful and apathetic.

Wordlessly, we look amongst ourselves, wondering who was chosen to be a part of this. In prior rituals, only one body was needed for the appeasement of Sol. Now, he could potentially bring us a way to ascend to Paradise? I am indeed overjoyed, as the Caster has predicted.

"As I expected, you are wondering whom has the privilege of pleasing our savior. Well, I have already gone ahead and made the decisions for you," The Caster finishes with the gesturing of the arm. The ritual assistants walk out to the crowd, five in total, searching for the chosen ones. Some are clearly using their eyes, some using their nose to snuff out interlopers, while at least one is not utilizing their senses at all. For some reason, my muscles tense up as they near me.

Am I… scared? Why? I should be happy! If I'm picked, then my death will be the benefit of the whole group, right? If so, then why do I feel a sense of panic? I feel like crying. I feel like throwing up. Why is this so? Why does this situation bring about a feeling of dread? I'm always happy during the sacrifices. Why is it only now that I wish to retreat to my quarters instead?

Before I can ponder any further, the assistants, followed by their respective selectees, return to the altar, lining up. As the assistants prepare the distilling table, the Caster pulls back the hoods of each member, analyzing their faces with intense scrutiny, even though the only noticeable difference in his demeanor are his squinted eyes.

"Brother Ganymede, Sister Nova, Sister Pluto, Brother Phobos, Sister Rhea. Outstanding members of our religion. Each of you will be granted swift and peaceful release, as you vanish from the pain and melancholy of this world… and know true peace," he concludes, gracing each with a streak of red paint upon their foreheads, each curved like a circle, to represent the Almighty Sol. Their eyes are beset with tears, though they do not cry. Their smiles are enough.

I am tearing up, too. But why am I not happy? Why?

The table is set. One of the assistants hands the Caster the Crimson Piercer, the knife used only by he to perform the sacrifices. Although the dagger is decorated with rustic greens and browns, its metal has been stained by red to where one could mistake it for its initial color. The name 'Piercer' is also misleading; the curvature of the blade would make for an optimal tool in the process of cutting, along with penetrating.

The first selectee, Brother Ganymede, is bound by rope to the table. This precaution is taken to prevent the body from flailing and sending valuable amounts of blood flying. The Caster grabs a mortar and pestle and begins crushing those red and green crystals into powder. Apparently, outsiders call them 'Dust'.

I look around me and see that my peers are smiling from ear to ear. After tonight, a prophet will make themselves known to us, be it man, woman, Faunus, human, child, or adult. This would be our chance. Our chance to finally be free of all the pain and suffering the world has caused us.

But why am I not happy? My muscles refuse to relax. My eyes cease to settle this game of tag. My eyes refuse to dry. I feel… dreadful. Sad. Frightened. But… this is for the good of the religion, right?

Right?

The Caster finishes his grinding, and begins to sprinkle the powder all along the body of Brother Ganymede. He then grabs his dagger and holds it in both hands and up to his face as he recites a prayer. His voice is too quiet, yet we all know what he says:

_"Anglosso kirn nock to Po, Lokki tuku minas O, Lokki firma kintu Ni!"_

And the room filled with his unholy screams.


	2. Different World

Remnant's First Crusade

**Chapter 2: Different World**

The explosion still rang clear in his head. Like a cymbal with just a little too much effort, it nearly burst his eardrums. Judging by the echoing rings in his head, it wouldn't be so unusual if he was now deaf. He expected the mission to go smoothly. In-and-out, was what the colonel told him. The Apache was not meant to be targeted. The chopper was in the dark. The radio was silent. It was supposed to be routine.

But it wasn't Death that greeted him on his doorstep, but rather a contrast to what was just witnessed. He could smell; not the odor of helicopter fuel or smoke, but fresh, clear air. He could feel, too, and truly touch what was around him. He felt cool, rigid concrete tickle his gloves. His legs budged, though only slightly.

He opened his eyes, his face forced into a wince until the ringing ceased. He had to shut his eyes quick, less he become blind by the intense sunlight. This sunlight, however, was not as scorching as the rays in Mogadishu. This feeling was more calming, charming, unlike the cold, hateful contrast that was the Somalian desert. His ears finally stopped ringing, and he could hear things he never thought he'd hear.

The bustling of cars and the voices of people.

In that moment, he figured that his team had crash landed from the attack, and were dragged into the city, ready to be stomped, crushed, and dragged through the streets. After reading about what happened the last time American forces were in the capital, he was almost certain it would happen again. And now that he was Army, it wasn't entirely impossible, either. He just hoped that Ethan had made it.

His eyes finally began to adjust. His heart rate sped up some, giving his blood a chance to pump. He could see now, by the combinations of gray walls, blue skies, and black roads, that he was in no danger. In fact, he had decided, in that instant, he was no longer in Somalia at all. It didn't make any sense to him. Mogadishu streets were supposed to be a dust-ridden warzone.

His body started to react to the growing restlessness he felt. He then assumed he was hallucinating. Yeah, that's it! There's no way you could be staring Death in the face one moment, then breathing in a sunny Sunday morning in Seattle. His hands found his chest. His fatigues were still intact. Remarkably, he did not feel any sort of rips, tears, or fragmentation from the RPG that hit the chopper. He checked his legs, arms, hands, face. All unscathed. Even his helmet, his standard issue, with its night-vision goggles attached, was still in one piece.

His mind did not rest as he checked for his other assets, thinking that this was all too surreal. His sidearm, his trusty M9, was still strapped to his leg. His M67 grenades and flashbangs, two of each in total, were still attached to his person. Finally, his Colt M4 assault rifle, outfitted with a laser pointer and a foregrip hugging the underside of the barrel, was laying right next to him, its ammo still unspent and ready for firing. Everything was miraculously unaffected.

Which made it all the more unsettling.

He rant through his questions. The what was already answered: the transition from being stuck in a tailspin to laying in an alleyway was already apparent. The when was somewhat confusing. One minute he was on a night mission, the next he was being blinded by an eager, yet forgiving sunshine. The who, which he had a tough time discerning. He remembered his partner and close friend, Ethan Cambridge, sitting beside him before things went to Hell; he knew nothing of no one of where he was now. The how would be next, which is what he wanted to know most of all. The why…

Well, he had no clue.

But even he knew it wouldn't be best to laze about in this unknown location, so he began collecting himself. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, thinking that unless the comforting sound of American soil was just a part of this hallucination, then he wouldn't need such force. Nevertheless, he was cautious. It's the one principle his commanding officers hammered into his brain during training.

Upon stepping out of the alleyway, he immediately scanned his surroundings. As expected, the backdrop looked as pristine as downtown Seattle would look. However, the similarities ended when he saw cars passing by. Rather than your everyday Fords, Mazdas, and other brands he was used to seeing, these cars were more… futuristic? He couldn't think of a better word; the cars were much smoother and more rounded than the ones he knew, with wheels that had no unique hubcaps, instead a smooth disk that seemed to glow as the apparatus spun.

The people were somewhat typical with varying skin colors, body types, and hair colors. He saw a few individuals with pastel-colored hair, neon greens and blues, but he didn't assume much else, considering the trend was alive and well in American society. He decided to walk along the sidewalk, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Sadly, a man armed to the teeth with military fatigues does not fit in well among civilians in everyday clothing. As such, he would get stares from everyone that passed him. He didn't mind the attention; himself and his comrades would get similar glances whenever they were sent abroad. But this was different. Their eyes were more confused than curious, as if they had never seen a man of his type before. This greatly baffled the soldier as well, for they were also paying more attention to his attire, rather than shying away and gluing their eyes to his firearms. Either the American populace had grown some balls since he had been in the service, or he was no longer in the States. He wasn't about to rule out the latter of being the answer, though.

However, when he turned a corner that led to a bustling outdoor mall, his jaw nearly pummeled a hole in the concrete he stood on.

Certain civilians were possessing various features he would not dream of being attached to a human: animal tails, ears, and even horns! Yet no one was batting an eye! If this truly was the nation he had grown to know, almost everybody would be gawking at these… creatures. There would at least be a news report telling of the existence of these beings. Not only that, but several among them were openly carrying weapons. Normally, he'd sooner turn the other cheek at someone carrying a pistol, but the sights he saw were far beyond such.

As he made his way through the mall, careful not to cause any unnecessary fright to anyone he crossed, the weapons he saw earlier became more detailed in his still-adjusting vision. He became entranced at the sight of such a variety: a battle-axe with a shotgun barrel located at the blade's end, a rifle with a sword retracted underneath its stock, a large, bladed disk that looked suspiciously like the most lethal frisbee…? To add to the befuddling designs, they were all colored in varying contrasts of sheens. So much so that the soldier couldn't stare for too long.

Despite his presence being acknowledged as he wandered about, he was thankfully ignored. He now had a better understanding that these people were used to seeing weapons that had such wacky designs, and that his rifle and sidearm were nothing to drool over. He _may_ just slip under the radar without being a target for potential conflict.

But the fact that such people existed, that talked, that remained untouched by social facets of American essentialism (his educators praised his philosophical knowledge) left him with more to comprehend. It was now obvious that he was no longer in the U S of A, but rather somewhere foreign. Such feats of human engineering and biology would not exist in the present day, he thought. Could he be in the future? A future where such ideas exist? Or was he in someplace else entirely, not quite Earth, but eerily similar?

He immediately felt sick, the weight of his situation resting in his stomach. Once he was a good distance away from the mall, he leaned against a wall against a building for a spell. He felt himself wheeze and heave, as if he was forcing himself to vomit. Nothing would come out, of course; he only had a protein bar prior to the mission. His eyes started to sting as tears filled his sight, which had only just fully adjusted. It didn't take him long to realize why he felt compelled to do this.

He was scared. Scared of the new situation he found himself in. Scared that his comrades likely hadn't survived the crash – a byproduct of the survivor's guilt he felt. Scared, of all things, that he wouldn't return home. It made him want to blubber like a baby in the middle of the street.

But then he remembered his training. He was being carved, sculpted the moment he entered boot camp. Like a painter to his canvas, or a sculptor to his muse, he was the masterpiece. The epitome of what the U.S. Army can produce in terms of raw manpower. His physical tests and drill sergeants told him that much. If he was to live true to those labels, he couldn't break down and humiliate himself in the face of opposition.

Ethan wouldn't cry when he got shot in the liver, so he had no right to, either.

He eased himself into a slight meditative state. His breathing calmed; his stomach settled. Finally, he rose to his feet and straightened his back. He wiped his tears and replaced them with a look of determination. He was going to find his way back home, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him.

He scanned the area once again. The first thing he needed to do, he pondered, was to find a library, or some other place where he could garner knowledge about where in the world he was. He glanced up at a street post poised near a corner, its signs reading "Spruce Street" and "13th Avenue" respectively. He looked alongside Spruce Street, the road he was currently on. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something peculiar out of this new world of peculiarities he'd soon find himself facing.

They were four: red, white, black, and yellow were their color schemes. They looked to be walking in his direction, but stopped, now staring at him. They were less than twenty feet away. He wasn't looking to close that distance. What if they had seen him break down just now? What if they were enemies? Upon closer inspection, these women were young, nearing his age range, each in varying styles of attire. Regardless of what he previously thought about teenage girls, he couldn't take the chance. So, he casually turned around, and crossed the street to walk down 13th Avenue.

With his head held high and his focus readjusted, his stride became more relaxed. He was glad how easily he was able to adapt. Despite knowing that he was going to face even more impossible and implausible opposition later on, he pressed. There was one little feeling that irked him, however…

He turned around, barely missing flashes of red, white, black, and yellow blur behind a building corner.

Dammit. So much for trying to stay non-combative.

But he knew better than simply run for his life. No, this was no fight-or-flight issue. This was a test-the-waters-for-a-bite issue. He would have to make a subtle effort to disappear under their watchful eyes. It would be near impossible, given his attire, which, amusingly, was the exact opposite effect that camouflage was to have. If they truly wished to hurt him, he supposed they would pursue him regardless of his attempts to escape.

He continued to walk as if nothing had happened. He did not need to see to know that the foursome were still following him. He was coming up to an intersection. Upon reaching it, he looked around, mentally planning his path.

This is it! Gotta take the chance!

He swiftly turned, then broke into a full-fledged sprint. With the extra 20-30 pounds of weight on his body, they would no doubt catch up to him. He wasn't planning on running far; he would sprint for several feet, then duck into another alleyway, hoping that he could conceal himself as well as he was before.

But then he heard a commotion behind him as he ran, followed by the growing sound of clattering boots and shoes against the sidewalk. Unfortunately, in his panic, he could not run faster unless he started discarding his gear, and fast. But given the situation he was about to find himself in, that wasn't going to happen.

Before he reached the other side of the street, he looked to his left to see something red pass his vision, followed by an equally crimson trail of rose petals. The blur proceeded to stop right in front of the mouth between the two buildings, revealing the red-haired girl from before to be standing before him.

The girl had a very childish face, and looked to only measure up to his chest. He stopped abruptly and took a step back. He then saw that this girl also had a contraption of wacky design behind her back, most likely a weapon. He was right! They were here to harm him!

His eyes went wide as he began to shake. He had been in a firefight before, and only became slightly shaken from the bullets that whizzed past him. He had no idea what this red-headed girl was capable of, so his actions were even more frantic, and much less graceful. He pulled the rifle from his back and fumbled with it for a good few seconds before he heard a cocking sound.

_Chik-chik!_

He froze, fear placating his face now as he hugged his rifle tightly. He turned to face a yellow gauntlet pointed at his face. The equally yellow-haired woman (he wouldn't think to call such a vibrant shade blonde) walked towards his front before lowering said weapon. The black- and white-colored girls strode in a similar fashion to cover the left flank. He was now trapped. The soldier took another step back, still aflush with fright, unsure of what to do next.

But no bullets were fired. The girls just stood there, analyzing the pathetic man in front of them. Then one of the girls, the red-head, spoke with a calming voice.

"Hey, are you okay? We didn't mean to scare ya," she said. Her eyes were not filled with malice, like he thought. Rather, they were sympathetic, concerned. Nevertheless, he clutched his rifle as if it were his lifeline.

"No need to be scared. We're not gonna hurt you, we promise." She rose her hands in a defensive gesture, indicating she wanted to be pacifistic. The soldier, however, was still tentative.

"W-Who… are you?" he managed to ask.

"We'll tell you if you put the gun down, okay?"

Against his better judgement, he complied, setting the weapon down onto the concrete.


	3. Under The Ice

Remnant's First Crusade

**Chapter 3: Under The Ice**

"So, you're not from around here, huh?"

If the man could answer any more fervently, he would, but he wasn't sure it was the right thing to say, especially when he was now drinking a fresh brew of coffee with the foursome, rather than sitting in a holding cell or packed full of lead.

Indeed, his paranoia got the best of him, and left him feeling confused… and somewhat frustrated that he was sitting at a café with these young women. After sacrificing the possession of his M4, the girls figured the best way to talk to him was to get his nerves in check. And what better way than to put a boiling cup of joe in the soldier's shaky hands? If there was one thing that truly gave him solace (he jokingly called it his kryptonite), it was coffee. Nature's medicine, he'd call it.

The girls were definitely the odd group, as he was quick to learn. The red one he had faced earlier and talked him down was named Ruby Rose, who was in fact carrying a weapon behind her back. She was also more than happy to show it off, scaring and impressing the man when he saw a large scythe-sniper rifle combo fold out. She seemed the most energetic of the group, already asking questions such as what weapons he had, where he got them, and what sort of clothing he was wearing.

"You could say that…" said the man as he took in more of the soothing taste of his drink. He was still distrustful of these girls, but he was trying his best to break out of the shell and not radiate such an aura.

"Clearly, or you wouldn't have been walking around Vale as lost as you were," spoke the bombastic yellow-haired woman from earlier, Yang. She had a more mature physique and was taller than Ruby, whom he learned that the two were siblings. He knew about _her_ weapons, as he was nearly introduced to them.

"I suppose. Wait…" His boundary broke, "Were you all following me the whole time?"

He sent accusatory eyes in their direction. Yang and Ruby began rubbing the backs of their heads and whistling, attempting to seem innocent in light of the undeniable truth. The black-haired girl (her name now known as Blake) sighed in resentment, while the white-haired girl (Weiss) pinched her nose with a frown.

"Yes," said Blake with dry resolve, "we were following you."

"Arrgh, Blakey! You weren't supposed to say that!" Yang whined at her friend. The girl in question did not change her demeanor, simply drinking from the tea she had ordered before responding.

"Why? It wouldn't be wise to be lying to him."

"Especially if he goes around pulling guns on strangers," Weiss remarked with a scoff. She had been the one to seize control of his rifle and was now looking it up and down.

"R-Right… sorry about that. There really isn't an excuse for what I did." He had also gradually developed a weighted feeling of guilt since he nearly killed Ruby, and that she repaid such an action by taking him to a café.

"Well, you seemed scared out of your wits. I wouldn't blame you if fear made you act like that," Ruby replied with a bright smile, "All is forgiven, friend!"

The smile was enough to make him do the same. Paired with his brew, he really didn't have a reason to still be afraid. Though that didn't mean he was going to drop his guard.

"Now that we got ya all settled down, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" she continued, clapping her hands together.

"Well, I can answer any questions you have. Within reason, of course." He knew that if he didn't add that caveat, they would expect him to be completely honest and explicit about what he was about to say.

"Here's one," Yang was the first to ask, "Do you wanna take that helmet off? It can't be comfortable to wear that thing all the time." She was right. Not only were they now indoors and away from any potential threats, the helmet didn't do his head any favors, what with the pressure the headpiece put against his skull. Small price to pay for safety, he supposed.

He nodded and unclipped the chin strap before sliding off the article. He ran a gloved hand through the short, black hair he possessed, now steadily growing from the standard buzz cut to a nice, full head. His face was riddled with whiskers, which did enough to accompany his strong chin and protruding cheekbones. He took a few minutes to breathe and observe his helmet a bit more, fiddling with the night vision goggles attached to the visor before facing them.

"Looking good, buddy!" Ruby gave a thumbs up at seeing his head in full.

"'Good'? I think you're setting the bar a little too low there, sis," Yang commented with a certain smoothness, giving an obvious sign of flirtation. He was no stranger to such advances, and merely blushed in response.

"You also haven't told us your name yet," added Blake.

"Ah, right, my apologies," He almost slapped himself for forgetting the basics of etiquette, "My name is Dio Bianchi."

"Interesting name. May just be the most I've heard in a while."

"Pfft, if you think it _sounds_ cool, try watching people try to _spell_ my last name. It gives you a headache," he responded. If there's one thing that got him talking, it would have to be his personal gripes and grievances. The comment caused Blake to emit a muffled giggle while Ruby attempted the proper spelling by writing on a napkin.

"Your attire and gear tells me that you aren't a typical civilian," Weiss was studying his helmet now, "Am I right?"

"Yeah, you got me," Dio took a risk by being honest, "I'm actually a soldier."

"Which military are you a part of? And what's your rank?" she continued, unleashing what was going to be a barrage of questions. Ruby decided to step in and alleviate the possible breach of privacy.

"Weiss, don't you think that's a little invasive? What if he thinks we're weirdos by asking him that?" Ruby whispered the second question to her friend, though Dio could hear both it and the scoff from Weiss immediately afterwards. Ruby then turned to him with an embarrassed smile.

"I'm a specialist in the U.S. Army's 101st Airborne Division, Bravo Company," Dio spoke without breaking stride. They all collectively looked at him with confused faces. It was at that point he knew without a doubt he was no longer on Earth. No one who spoke perfect English wouldn't know about the United States Army otherwise.

"The whos-a-whats division?" asked Yang, the most befuddled of the group.

"Is that a branch in Vacuo?" pondered Weiss.

"No… It's the United States Army. You're telling me you've never heard of them?" Dio asked, sharing in their confusion, even more so on what 'Vacuo' was.

"Seriously!? You don't need even know about Vacuo? What rock have you been living under?" The haughty woman blurted out at Dio. Ruby took the liberty of covering her mouth, her face being painted red in embarrassment.

"Haha… sorry about that…" Ruby nervously apologized, "She can get a bit testy at times."

"That's for sure! Don't think I've seen Weiss flip out over a little joke!" said the bombastic hyper-blonde. However, the darting eyes and concerned frown on Dio's face told both Weiss and Blake enough.

"Maybe because it isn't a joke," spoke the black-hair.

"Oh, c'mon! You'd either have to have lived a completely sheltered life, not even knowing what a _Grimm _is or be some sort of alien that doesn't know the first thing about Remnant!" Yang proclaimed quite boldly, though the baffling glance on the soldier's face only grew.

Grimm? Like the fairy tales? And a 'remnant' of what?

She chanced a look back at him as she was chuckling at such an absurd possibility. She immediately stopped once their eyes met, "Wait, you're dead serious, aren't you?"

"Considering I have next to no idea what in the world you're talking about, then yes, I am serious."

"T-There's no way!" Yang, ever so subtle, continued yelling, "Y-You've got to be joking, right? You've got to be crazy otherwise!"

"Yang, not so loud! People are starting to stare…" Ruby came up from behind the blonde with a finger brought up to her mouth to shush her. Sure enough, a good number of patrons were looking at them once Yang's outburst was made. Meanwhile, Blake and Weiss were busy thinking and analyzing his fatigues, respectively.

"Ruby, you can't believe that this guy's for real, right? He has to be playing with us! He HAS to be!"

"You shouldn't be shouting so loud, Yang! We might get kicked out!" The sisters continued their bickering conversation while Dio did his best to remain inattentive, hoping that he would not draw any unnecessary attention to himself. At least three out of the four members of the group knew a thing or two about subtlety. That much he could appreciate.

Finally, Blake spoke out, "Yang, I don't think he's lying."

She whipped her head back around to face the stoic girl, Dio feeling the locks of her mane blow an updraft against his face, "Not you too, Blake!"

"Actually, I'm in agreement with her," Weiss chimed in, "It's not the most believable explanation, but it certainly holds the most weight."

Yang, in return, laid back in her chair and gulped down the remainder of her beverage, Ruby seating herself back down as she did, "Well, let's hear it, then."

Blake decided to be the first one to go. For some reason, this both excited and apprehended Dio. While the girls studied him, he had read their covers right back. He figured that the mysterious beauty was more than meets the eye. She reminded him of kids back in his high school days that were always a step above the rest, answering every question correctly, and excelling in whatever subject they touched. Blake seemed to fit the bill; and with those haunting yellow eyes, Dio was captivated.

"Normally, I'd call it insane, but the way he presents himself, the way he carries himself… I feel that he hasn't told many lies in his life. That or he's terrible at telling them."

"Guilty." He raised a hand.

"And also: would it really be that odd if he _were _some sort of alien? I mean, we fight creatures that can easily cause nightmares on a daily basis."

"Not only that," Weiss added, picking up his helmet and pointing to the goggles, "but he's possessing military-grade assets. While it's nothing compared to Atlas, it still wouldn't be in the hands of someone who lived a sheltered life, nor if he was insane." The rest of the group continued to listen in, hoping that the two girls' thought processes would unearth more information.

"But that doesn't mean I don't have doubts."

"Yeah, but couple that fact with what he said earlier and his clothes… It seems awfully convincing," Blake reminisced some more.

"What about his body language back there in Vale? Would a soldier really be acting like that, Weiss?" said Ruby, who seemed desperate to add in to this brainstorming.

"I can answer that," Dio said simply, receiving full attention, deciding to take another risk with another truth, "Before I found myself here, I was on a night rescue mission for another squadron. Unfortunately, a rocket struck the helicopter I was riding in and it began to go into a tailspin. I found myself in an alleyway just before impact."

"What!? You were in a crash!?" Ruby blurted out in surprise, "Are you okay?"

"Never better, just a little shaken up after the incident, though I thank you for your concern." He grinned at the energetic lass, "I was quite paranoid back there, thinking that I had landed in enemy territory without any backup or my squad mates."

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that her new friend was somewhat unharmed. A period of brief silence followed, the five of them taking a good moment to take in what they had said. Yang was suspect to this, given that she was in full disbelief before the theory was heard. She was now skeptical, as were the rest of the girls.

"Well, we now know he's not from Remnant, but how did he even get here? Or why is he here, when he knows little to nothing about it?" Yang asked, breaking the silence.

"I've been asking those exact questions myself, Yang," exclaimed Dio with a heavy sigh, still no closer to finding the answers himself.

"Maybe we should consult someone?" Blake said.

"Oh, sure, like we're gonna find someone absurd enough that can tell us something worthwhile?" Weiss added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "They'd have to be some sort of scraggly hermit living in a hut, or some fanciful nutjob sitting in a psychiatric ward!"

"Or… It could be someone we know…" Ruby's grin grew significantly as an idea popped into her head.

"Who would that be?" The soldier asked curiously.

"You'll find out. Let's head back to Beacon, gang!" Ruby proudly announced, hopping out of her chair and leading the charge out of the establishment. One by one, the rest of the group followed suit, the three girls used to her childish personality by now, while Dio was busy interpreting what she could mean by a 'beacon'.

As they left, they were being watched from afar, upon a building opposite to the coffee shop. They were two, dressed in maroon cloaks that concealed any and all forms of identity, hidden neatly behind a chimney. One of them spoke, staring at the oddly dressed fellow as he lagged behind the girls.

"You think that is him?" The first figure asked, his voice masculine.

"Positive. Though, we can't approach him now. Not when he's so unfamiliar with how this world functions," responded the second, a feminine voice.

"He will not learn how to survive if he doles in small victories. One of us will have to."

"I will."

"May I ask why?"

"Because," her voice became sterner, "I have nothing to lose. He is our savior, after all."


	4. Man On The Edge

Remnant's First Crusade

**Chapter 4: Man On The Edge**

In his lifetime, Dio had been beaten up, reprimanded for speaking out of line, shot at, and had a myriad of other things done to him. What he was a stranger to, however…

… was having a magnifying glass concentrated on him by an oddly man with green hair, spectacles, and a pattern of talking that could give auctioneers a run for their money.

"Hmm…" hummed the man, busily scratching his pointed chin while looking Dio over from all angles with said instrument. Dio felt, in essence, like he was being treated as a newly discovered species, ready to be dissected. He and the girls were situated in a lecture hall, all gathered around the man's desk. Dr. Bartholomew Oobleck, as Dio had immediately been introduced to (no exaggeration with the word "immediately"), was an educator of history at the academy Ruby and company attended, the very 'Beacon' that he had struggled to understand.

Speaking of misinterpretation, the foursome had brought the young man up to speed on what was what in the new land he found himself in. He was in a kingdom called Vale in an expansive, apparently fertile land called Remnant. Within Remnant were three other kingdoms aside from Vale: Atlas, Vacuo, and Mistral, all located in differing regions of the land. The people with animal limbs were called 'Faunus', a different race of humanoid. Finally, there was the Grimm. They were not, in fact, monsters and woes reminiscent of the tales he read so l0ng ago, but monsters that sounded suspiciously akin to demons: born from the shadow, animalistic, without a soul, and drawn to others' hate and animosity. Dio, in return, told the group about his home planet and how much of what he sees was remarkably similar to an American city.

"Anything worth noting, Professor?" Yang asked, playing with a shotgun shell out of boredom, for the good doctor had been studying Dio for all of about twenty minutes.

"_Doctor…_" Oobleck said, his tone reminiscent of someone who held the title of 'Doctor' to a high degree, and wanted to be addressed as such, "It looks like…"

"Does he have some sort of exoskeleton under his skin? Is he really a _lizard person_?" Ruby asked with wonder in her eyes. Weiss scoffed considerably at her partner's theory.

"Nope, and not even part-Grimm…" He raised a finger up, then put his instrument down and positioned himself so that he faced the five youngsters. They all leaned in, hoping that an oddball like him would provide something concrete.

"He is, without a doubt, a fully-fledged human!" Oobleck stated proudly.

A few seconds of silence followed. A cricket was heard in the corner of the room.

"Okay," Blake spoke, "but do you have any idea about why or how he came here?"

"That… I cannot answer, I'm afraid." Oobleck responded dejectedly, now with a deflated finger. The room filled with groans and contested sighs. You'd think that with Oobleck's experience, he'd have at least a plausible theory to offer them.

"Well, _that_ was helpful," spoke Blake, sarcasm apparent in her voice. Dio sighed and stretched his arms some. Staying completely still while he was being observed was not the most comfortable experience.

"Aw… are you sure you didn't get anything, Doctor?" Ruby asked, disappointed.

"I'm terribly sorry, girls. While his fatigues _do _bear a unique pattern and attachments, that is all that I can see from him; apart from a distinct lack of an aura, that is."

"He did tell us that he wasn't from Remnant," Weiss exclaimed, "so it wouldn't be abnormal that he doesn't have one."

"What if it hasn't been awakened?" Yang rebutted.

"Yang, please, if he has been in combat situations before, there is no way he wouldn't have his aura activated. It's practically suicide!" Weiss crossed her arms, confused by Yang's implications.

"Not true, Ms. Schnee!" Oobleck pivoted to face the fancily-dressed girl, "Many soldiers of different militaries get by just fine without aura! While it's not the most advisable way to face danger, it certainly isn't unfeasible!"

Dio shyly raised a hand at this, "Uhm, excuse me, but you may need to explain why you're treating a person's soul like it's a switch…"

"Ah, of course!" The doctor pivoted once more with a gleam in his eyes, "Aura is, as you say, a part of a person's soul. In essence, it is like a natural shield that every person possesses. It is a primary tool us huntsmen utilize in the everyday struggle against the Grimm!"

"Really? How?" Dio asked, curiosity awash in his eyes.

"A myriad of things! Enhanced abilities, stronger physical attacks, bolstered resistance, protection against the elements, and healing faster from injuries, to name some. The possibilities are endless!"

"Enhanced abilities? Does that include the swirly-blur-thing Ruby became earlier when we were in Vale?" The soldier pointed to the red girl in question. She giggled in response to his attempt to try and explain what he saw.

"No, silly! That was my semblance!"

"A what?"

"Think of it like a unique power that each person can possess," Dr. Oobleck continued, "Every huntsman and huntress develops their own at various points in their lifetime. What you probably saw was Ruby's semblance, which allows her to accelerate to near-breakneck speeds in an instant."

"Yep! Like this!" As soon as she finished speaking, she disappeared from Dio's eyes in a flash of red. He looked about the room and saw a blur dart around various areas of the room. Though it wasn't the first time he saw this, it still left him at a loss for words. The lass then returned to the desk, laying out a few leftover pencils and paper scraps from her journey.

"Wow," was all Dio managed to say.

"You seem starstruck." Blake said.

"I've seen jets take off with speeds that blow me away. To see a human being – let alone someone like Ruby – breach such speed limits leaves me doubting everything I've ever known," he responded, his eyes now disbelieving at what he just witnessed.

"If you think _that's _impressive, you should see what Weiss can do," spoke Yang, subtly goading her.

"I _hardly _think that's worthwhile," she replied, narrowing her eyes at the fiery brawler, "Besides, aren't we getting a little off-topic?"

Yang scoffed, "You're no fun, Princess."

"Regardless, I do believe Ms. Schnee is correct," said Dr. Oobleck. For a moment, he pondered, then raised his pointer finger, his face in an epiphanic state, "Maybe you all ought to talk to the Headmaster!"

"Ozpin? What would _he_ know about Dio's situation?" Ruby asked, her face scrunched in bafflement at the mention of his name.

Oobleck chuckled a bit as he adjusted his spectacles, "Ozpin is very knowledgeable, more so than I. If he can't shed some much-needed light on young Mr. Bianchi's situation, no one can."

That last sentence scared Dio some. If they couldn't explain what happened to him, what would he do? He realized just how much he was up the river without a paddle. If these people, these 'huntsmen', utilize certain powers he'd only hear about in fantastical tales to combat these demons, then he'd have no chance. Would his guns or explosives even work? Would his combat knife? Or would he die the minute he stepped foot outside the kingdom's walls?

"Even so, it's not likely we could even _see _him. He's probably busy stamping forms or performing administrative duties," Weiss exclaimed with a sigh.

"_Au contraire_, Ms. Schnee," Oobleck pulled out a thin piece of metal, which expanded to form something reminiscent of a mobile phone. Dio had seen Vale's citizens carrying devices like that, and thought they were part of the wacky technology he had been exposed to thus far, "If we bring this new discovery to Ozpin, he will no doubt take notice."

"Wait, don't tell me you can actually _get_ us into his office?" Yang was expecting him to be joking.

"If I detail my findings from this session, then he'll no doubt accept an audience with Dio here."

"Yes! Thanks, Professor!" Ruby cheered.

"_Doctor…_"

"Right, Doctor," She scratched the back of her head in embarrassment.

"Good. Now, run along. I expect Ozpin to be fairly swift in his contacting you."

The group collectively nodded and said their goodbyes to the educator and exited. The interior of Beacon Academy was naught but astonishing to Dio. It had reminded him of a castle he visited once, its gothic architecture meshed with practical and eye-catching aesthetic. It really made him feel like he was dreaming at times. He wondered if he really had fallen asleep, that he had suffered either a major concussion from the crash or had been put into a medically-induced coma, now hallucinating everything that was happening to him. He also wondered if he was dead, that this was what passed as an afterlife. Perhaps the ancient Egyptians were right, that passing on is just another part of life? If waking up in a world filled with animal people, mechanical impossibilities, and not-quite-demons is considered the afterlife, then Dio would have to rethink his beliefs.

He was so focused in his thoughts that his face started turning sour and his pace slowed significantly. He looked up, expecting the girls to be largely ahead of him, only to find them actually slowed down to his pace, the lot of them staring. He perked up and collected himself.

"S-Sorry about that! Guess I didn't get enough sleep this morning…"

The girls didn't buy it.

"H-Hey, what are those looks for? H-Have I got something in my teeth?" he bluffed, trying to sell it.

"Is there something on your mind, Dio?" said Blake, her eyes as mysterious as ever. Try as he might, he could not read her emotions.

He stuttered slightly, trying to deflect the question. He tried shifting his eyes somewhere else, only to be met with equally damning expressions: Yang and Ruby were concerned, with Ruby's eyes resembling that of a puppy's, while Weiss was as stern as ever.

"I-I-I…" he continued, "N-Nothing."

"Dio…" Ruby spoke, her voice calm and sympathetic as before, "We want you to know that we want to help you adjust. We're not your enemies."

But why? Why did they care so much? No one else seemed to bat an eye at his presence. For all they knew, he could be insane!

"W-Why? Why are you helping me?"

"What do you mean, Dio?" Yang chimed in; her tone similar to her sister's.

"I sobbed like a child and nearly put a bullet in you all," He failed to realize how much he started to shake, "Not to mention that I'm completely out of my league. To tell you the truth, I've only been in the service for a year and a half, and I've already seen too much. In the U.S. Army, we typically fight other humans, never any Grimm. I've shot at enemies, been shot at, seen civilians die…" He could feel a tear leave his face, "… seen friends die…"

Though he felt like he had to muster up the courage not to cry. Crying showed weakness. His doubts started rising again. In that moment, he remembered skulking with his squad in a Syrian village, forcing himself to stay emotionless and stoic so that he'd be prepared for any threat that came their way. His commanding officer would either dismiss or slap a soldier for crying. It wasn't what soldiers do. However, Dio didn't feel like a soldier at all.

He felt… small. Insignificant. He always casted doubt on himself, despite his achievements. He had to learn that the world wasn't going to roll over whenever he cried or lashed out. If he wanted to get somewhere in life, he had to be the bigger man. Part in parcel was to not cry. Men don't cry. He was taught that long ago, and hasn't succumbed since. Whether it be the death of a friend, family member, or sustaining an injury, no tears came from Dio's face.

So, why now did he feel like his threshold was weakening even more than he felt? Apparently, the girls could see the anguish, too.

Dio felt Blake place a hand on his shoulder, "You've experienced quite a lot, haven't you?"

He could only nod, doing his best to remain straight-faced. He then felt something wrap around his midsection. It was warm, and it didn't wrap around him too tight. He looked down, finding Ruby hugging him.

That was the moment. The moment he came crashing down. He had felt hugs from people before. Friends and civilians would give him brief embraces, but that would be it. No one ever showed him sympathy in times of grief. He'd always just suck it up and bottle up the emotions, firmly believing in what he was taught.

But the hug Ruby gave was unlike any other he experienced. The warmth he felt burned him both pleasantly and obnoxiously. It burned so much that he actually gave in. Before he knew it, he felt more people sharing in his burning. Through the tears, he saw that Yang and even Blake were embracing the poor man. He never thought he could feel so much sadness, yet so much happiness all at once, even though he had only met these girls hours ago, the same terrified, trembling soul he was.

It must've been several minutes before he settled down. The girls kept near him the whole time. Once he did, he didn't care if anyone saw, or that he was trying to keep down his emotions. His relief would be enough. He sniffled and wiped his tears haphazardly as the three released him.

"Feeling better?" Ruby asked.

He nodded, "Yeah… thank you so much for that."

Yang smiled and slapped the man's shoulder, "Anytime, man. You're not alone in this, you know."

"I see. You all have shown me that much." He looked up and managed to smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the offender, Weiss, who was the only one he did not feel embrace him. In fact, she looked bewildered, mostly out of curiosity as she scanned everyone else.

"What… Why did you three just hug him?" she asked.

"What do you mean, Weissy?" Yang replied.

"Well, no offense to you, Dio, but we've only known you for less than a day, and already you've broken down crying in front of us," She gestured to her friends, "And you three just hugged him? I know we're supposed to be supportive and all, but isn't doing that to someone we just met going a little far?"

At that moment, Ruby, Yang, and Blake finally caught on to what she meant, and exchanged glances. Dio was still recovering from his outburst, but listened to her, nonetheless.

"I… have no idea," Blake replied, herself left without a proper answer.

"Same here," added Yang.

Ruby looked between herself and Dio before voicing her thoughts, "I… guess I kinda felt like I _needed _to comfort him. Also, hugs are nice, aren't they?"

"While that may be true if the person you hug is a friend or a loved one, it doesn't necessarily carry over to strangers," explained the haughty woman.

"But, we know a lot about him, and he's been nice, and he's been through so much, Weiss! Can we not at least give him the compassion he needs?"

"How do you know he's telling the truth?" Weiss proposed to the naïve young red-head.

"W-What?" Ruby said, her eyes widening.

"You saying you don't trust him, Weiss?" Yang piped up with an accusatory tone.

"Well, he's told us quite the sob story already, hasn't he? And while I agree that it's believable, that doesn't mean we should treat it as gold when we know very little about _who _Dio is!"

"Weiss…" Ruby said with a melancholy tone, "How could you say that?"

"I'm simply being careful, Ruby. You never know who our enemies could be," stated Weiss with an air of caution. Yang was about to say something, but was cut off, "I'd rather not deal with this issue any further. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go study."

And just like that, Weiss had vanished. Dio's relief became much more embittered upon hearing what she said. It didn't make him want to cry, though. That much had been over with.

"Sorry, Dio. Weiss has a bit of trouble trusting people." Blake apologized, her eyes looking downward.

"Don't worry," He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked with hollow eyes, "I'm used to it."


	5. Moonchild

Remnant's First Crusade

**Chapter 5: Moonchild**

The day had steadily begun to run its course. Ozpin would certainly see the timeliness after reading what Oobleck had reported to him. He had heard instances of people often losing their memory of where or who they were, often having to be taken to a psychiatrist for treatment. He'd also recalled cases of children and young adults who were confined to their homes to the point that they wouldn't know left from right; that they wouldn't survive in typical social situations, much less able to defend themselves from the creatures of Grimm.

This one, however, was not characteristic of either. According to Oobleck, Dio was in fact competent, able to answer any and all questions regarding his profile, including stating his combat experience and knowledge of martial arts. He found the description of the young man's fatigues interesting, too. He'd never heard of any battle dress uniform that was patterned like a pixelated surface, each colored with a certain sheen of green. The weapons were surprisingly basic and likely standard for the man. Ozpin would agree, as he knew that variants of the weapon described had been seen all around Remnant, mostly in the black markets in Mistral's slums.

As such, the silver-haired man would need to question Dio himself. He never doubted Oobleck's deductive analyses; it was that particular skill that made him one of Ozpin's most worthy teachers. The good doctor's knowledge and recall ability of all that happened in Remnant since before the Great War astounded Ozpin when he first came in to apply for a job there. Their interactions quickly grew into a blossoming friendship, what with their shared favorite brew of coffee and their enlightening conversations.

If even Bartholomew couldn't explain this boy's origins, then it was worth looking into.

He looked at the gothic, marble-laden clock sitting on the edge of his desk. Half past one. He had contacted Ruby Rose about thirty minutes earlier, accepting the request for a meeting with Dio. It was just after lunchtime, now beginning the second half of classes. Though he expected more of a punctual arrival, he couldn't fault the young man if he lost his way. If he was as clueless as Oobleck said, then Dio would be akin to a lost pup.

He was just about to reach for his scroll to notify any staff within the vicinity to guide him, when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened timidly. Peeking around its frame was a man Ozpin did not recognize. It was apparent through the report that this was Dio, along with his blatant unfamiliarity. His bronze eyes showed that much as he walked in. He noticed the weapons immediately: a black pistol strapped to a leg holster, and a black-and-sand colored rifle slung behind his back.

"Pardon me, but you wouldn't happen to be Ozpin, would you?" asked Dio, his voice unconfident. Ozpin revealed a small smile at his polite demeanor and nodded.

"Yes, I am. And that would mean you're Dio Bianchi, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Dio replied with a salute. The headmaster chuckled slightly as he gestured Dio to a decorated chair in front of him.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you. And please, if you would, refrain from saluting me. I am an educator, not your drill sergeant," he said calmly, trying not to come off as rude. It wasn't that he disliked Dio – he had yet to pass judgement on that – but that he felt that saluting was meant to be left to military personnel.

"Right, my apologies," he apologized as he sat down, "Force of habit."

"Apparently," he moved some papers aside, "Could I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"Oh, uh, no thank you, sir. I actually had some food earlier."

"At our cafeteria, I presume?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes. I gotta say, you and the staff really outdid yourselves with the food here."

"I appreciate the praise, Dio. It's been a while since someone voiced anything positive about our food services."

"Well, when you've been eating scrap and tumble for almost a year as I have, a nice, big bowl of fruit can be a rather revitalizing experience." He smiled as he could almost taste the sweetness of those strawberries now.

"I'm assuming my students and staff have treated you well?"

"Oh, of course! Gotta say, I wasn't expecting that warm of a welcome here."

"Oh? What exactly _were_ you expecting?"

Dio chose to tread carefully when talking with Ozpin. As kind and accommodating he seemed, the soldier's spine quivered in his presence. It was one thing if it was a nun armed with a meterstick, but something else entirely if it was someone who gave off such an aura of mystery. Blake had nothing on Ozpin. "Oh, uh, nothing positive. Likely a bullet to the cranius platius," he said, trying to come off as nonchalant.

"I'm sorry?" The man's brow raised even further at his unique choice of words. Dio mentally cursed himself for letting old habits slip out. He supposed he was becoming weaker by the minute, ever since he sat down in that chair.

"S-Sorry… I meant my head," he corrected, tapping a finger to his temple, "Another force of habit, making up words for existing objects."

"Think nothing of it, my boy," Ozpin replied with a wave of the hand, taking a sip from his mug, "So, you expected to be attacked? Were you in the middle of a mission when you came here?"

"Almost. Our aircraft got shot down before we made the LZ."

"Are you unharmed?"

"Just a little shaken up, but otherwise unscathed."

Ozpin nodded as he latched onto the young man's words, "And what was the objective?"

"Search and rescue."

"And I'm assuming you were the backup?"

"Correct. It was at night, with a five-man team."

"Where exactly was the mission to take place?"

"Some village in southern Syria," He scratched his head trying to remember what the details were, "I'm kinda fuzzy on everything else, though."

"Syria? I do not believe I've ever heard of that place." The headmaster touched his chin, trying to recall any and all settlements that had such a name. Alas, he had naught an idea.

"As expected," Dio sighed deeply, "Seems no one in this town knows a damn thing about where I'm from."

Ozpin could sense his faint anguish from behind his desk. It seems he couldn't rule out entirely that the man had some form of amnesia. But if he wanted to extract any usable information, he'd have to be more direct. He took the strange device Dio had kept seeing everywhere and expanded it with the touch of a button. The soldier watched in stunned silence as the device connected to his desk – seemingly without a cord – and displayed an interface right there on the surface. Ozpin caught him staring and met his eyes.

"Something wrong, Dio?"

"Those devices…" He pointed at it, "What _are _those?"

"Ah, I see you're unfamiliar. These are Scrolls. They are mobile devices that have a multitude of uses, aside from two-way communication."

"Wow…"

He studied Dio's face further, wondering what the extent of Earth's technology was if the young man was staring at the display like it was an artifact. He had to admit that the capabilities that his desk's terminal had were impressive, but no one had shown as much astonishment as Dio.

"Maybe I shall procure you one soon enough. Anyway," he said as he cleared his throat, causing Dio to perk up immediately, "Do you remember much from before you came here?"

"The helicopter crash?" Dio asked, confused.

"Afterwards," He loosened his wrists to ready himself for typing.

"Hmm…" Dio didn't remember much at all. All he saw was black and heard nothing. It was a near-death experience, if he had ever seen one. Though, now that he thought on it further…

"There was a bright white light. I would try to shut my eyes, but it was too intense. It felt… hot. Like I was left inside an oven. And… screaming!"

"Screaming?" Ozpin looked up from his mad typing session.

"It was almost ungodly how loud it was. It sounded like agony personified," he rubbed his fingers against the sides of his skull, "I can still faintly feel the migraine it gave me."

Dio didn't want to reminisce on what he had experienced. It was something unlike anything he felt. He had felt all emotions at once, with the most prominent feelings being anger and sadness. He wanted to lash out, to thrash and cry to make the screaming stop. Anything to get some peace. But he couldn't. He didn't think he had a body, after all.

"Interesting. Was there anything else?"

"Nope. Nothing."

Truth be told, Ozpin was more curious than skeptical, like those before him who got to know Dio. It wasn't about what Dio was saying, but rather, what energy he gave off. Recalling repressed memories and experiences was one way of getting to the bottom of things, but this wasn't something that could be answered with psychoanalysis. Oobleck was right. The man didn't possess an aura. What he did possess, however, was something Ozpin was all too familiar with, but was reluctant to touch on.

What would Dio think if he assumed something so outlandish?

But it was undeniable. He could feel Dio's presence even before the door was opened. It was… trepidatious, what he felt. Thankfully, years of stoicism allowed him to maintain his tranquil self in the face of such adversity. Only few possessed such power to influence their surroundings, and he knew it. Questions would arise from this new discovery. How did Dio garner this power? Did he have it before or after his crash? Does he even know that his power is in use right now? Would he even believe it? There was only one way to know for sure. Ozpin typed out a new column for his notes before continuing his interview.

"How about recently? Have you noticed anything odd about yourself? Anything changed?"

"Not really. Am I supposed to? Oobleck did mention something about aura, though…"

"What about your interactions with the people of Vale?" He had his hands poised on his keyboard, ready to begin the race.

"Nothing too odd. Ruby and her friends treated me nice enough. Do they always hug newcomers?" Dio asked, pondering deeply.

"From what I've heard and seen, they _are _a tad more friendly than other students. Why, did they do that to you?"

"Y-Yeah," His face dusted pink with embarrassment, "I… kinda broke down crying in the corridor earlier."

"And that's when they embraced you?"

"Yep."

"Well, that's very n-"

"Except for Weiss."

Now we're getting somewhere, Ozpin thought. His expression didn't change, though he knew that his inner happiness was brimming, relieved that they were making progress. Ozpin hadn't felt this happy in such a long time.

"While I do agree that Ms. Schnee can be a bit… callous at times, it does beg the question why she didn't join her teammates."

"Well, when the rest of the girls let go and Weiss questioned them, they had no idea themselves. Apparently, they felt compelled to comfort me like that. Weiss also stated that she didn't trust me, and left soon after Ruby tried to appeal to her emotions," he finished.

"I can understand where she is coming from…" Ozpin was about to say more, but trailed off as he continued to type and analyze Dio's energy further, "Tell me, do you have any idea what magic is?"

"Of course."

"What do you know about it?"

"Other than jargon you'd find in a fantasy novel or religious hearsay, then nothing else. It's a subject of controversy back home, whether it's real or not."

The headmaster adjusted his spectacles in a similar way to Oobleck, ready for his moment to truly shine as an educator. "Well, magic exists in this world too, just not in hefty doses," he explained.

"Really?" Dio paused, "Then what about dust? That isn't magic?"

"No. Dust is a natural mineral. Though, I can see why you'd assume so." He stopped himself, debating on what to say next. If the soldier possessed a similar palette of power as he, then a much-concealed truth would have to be revealed. He pressed a button on his desk. All throughout the room, the mechanical whirs of cameras dying down and window shutters being extended were heard. For a split-second, Dio jumped to the conclusion that Ozpin was a Bond villain in disguise.

In actuality, Ozpin was merely being as discrete as possible. He knew about the young man's jumpy condition, so he made his movements as smooth and non-assuming as possible. In a few swift motions, he stood up from his desk, locked the door to his office, and returned to face Dio, now standing in front of his desk.

There would only be one way to find out for sure.

"Stand up, please."

Dio did so, setting his helmet down beside the chair. The air was still trepidatious. Ozpin could now feel the energy in full force. His happiness turned to concern, uncertain of his next move. It surprised him, how easily Ozpin was moved emotionally, even though Dio had not said a word. It made him all the more anxious to dissect the abstract that was the young soldier.

He placed a hand on the lad's right breast. He could feel a bulletproof vest underneath, along with a burning sensation. Ozpin assumed it was his soul, begging to be set free. He wondered if this was a good idea, that this'd possibly have a disastrous aftereffect. Nevertheless, he persevered.

At first, nothing happened. Dio was more confused than before, wondering why Ozpin had touched him in the first place. Could he be under the effect the girls were under? Judging by the man's character and disposition, Dio assumed it wasn't so, that this was something intentional.

Suddenly, Dio felt himself get hot, scalding even. He felt the undeniable urge to rip his fatigues off to escape the heat building up inside him. He winced. He could not move. Ozpin kept his hand on the boy's chest, focusing. A glow started to emanate around Dio's body, just as the heat was at its peak. He felt tears stream down his face as his endurance peaked as well. But before much longer, the heat subsided, now replaced with a cool, tranquil temperature.

Ozpin removed his hand and stepped back, giving Dio _just _enough space to fall to his hands and knees, panting and sweating from exhaustion. His residual heat felt tame now. He felt lighter, like shackles had been torn from him. That didn't stop him from exploding at the educator, however.

"What the HELL was that? Are you trying to kill me?"

Ozpin simply smiled, observing the faint gold aura that enveloped Dio's person, almost equal in brilliance to his radiant eyes, "Not quite. Just simply unlocking your aura."

Dio's anger was replaced by wonder as he studied himself, seeing the glow around him. Not only that, but he felt stronger and more capable. The weight of his gear barely meant a thing any more. The silver-haired man walked back behind his desk and typed some more into the interface. He just had one more question on his mind: Where would he go from there? It was clear that Dio was able to possess an aura, and most likely, a semblance, but the energy output was even greater. He felt like a candle that burned too bright, though half as fast.

"So, this is aura, huh? Jeez, I feel like an Olympic athlete right now!" Dio whooped and began hopping and running in place, jovial with this new feeling. The best part was that his apprehension and paranoia were little to gone. He never felt so unrestrained in his life! Eventually, he seized himself and sat back down in the chair, taking a more relaxed pose, setting a leg on top of the other.

"Feeling better?" Ozpin said finally.

"Heck yeah. Eh, sorry for cursing at you, earlier."

"You are forgiven. Actually, I'm just as shocked as you are. Never in my life have I seen that happen upon activating one's aura."

Dio didn't realize it, but Ozpin had placed him atop a high pedestal. If Ozpin was to learn more about _what _Dio was and what exactly he was capable of, then he'd need to find some way to expose it. Unfortunately, Ozpin was busy enough as is, what with the school to run, Vale City Council biting at his heels, and the Atlesian military breathing down his sordid neck. He'd need Dio to get the training he needed another way.

Suddenly, he had an idea so crazy that it just might work.

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Bianchi, I'd like to study your case some more. I'm certain from this experience that there is more to you than meets the eye."

"Of course!" Dio replied happily.

"However, my schedule leaves me as busy as a bumblebee, so I can't afford to counsel you every day. I do have another option for you: enrollment."

Dio leaned in and exhibited his own air of skepticism, wondering what in the world Ozpin was thinking, "How in the world can you do that?"

The silver-haired man chuckled some more, "You seem to have forgotten that I'm the headmaster. All antics aside, the second semester is due to start within a week after today, which should give you more than enough time to get caught up on your studies."

Though his inner child told him to gripe and groan at the thought of having to attend classes, it was overridden by the promising experience of learning just what Remnant had to offer. How could he pass it up?

"Also, I have this to give you…" He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a Scroll, handing it to Dio. He held it in his hand delicately, careful not to break it. To his surprise, it felt sturdy, which, once again, defied nearly everything Dio had known already, "I have also gone through the trouble of loading a sum of lien onto your account."

"Lien?" Dio asked.

"It's the currency most commonly used in Remnant. The amount should be enough for you to be able to purchase whatever weapons or gear you need, should you choose to forego your current setup."

Dio looked at his fatigues and his weapons. If aura truly was the natural shield Oobleck made it out to be, then some much-needed changes would be made. No longer would he have to run around in the hot sun in multiple layers of armor and thick clothing. At least, he hoped so.

"I will also organize for one of the single rooms here in Beacon to be your dorm for your time here." Dio was taken back by this. Giving him money _and _providing him with shelter? If only the nuns were that generous…

"Really? Headmaster, sir, you really don't have to do that."

"You are a special case here, Dio. I know you don't have any huntsman training to speak of, but your much talked-about military prowess leads me to believe it won't be long before you catch up," he paused and took a swig of his beverage, "During this growth, I expect you to surpass my expectations. I've given you a leg up, now it's up to you to take the next step. Do I make myself clear?"

"Couldn't be any more crystal clear, sir!" Dio stood and replied jovially.

Ozpin couldn't help but feel that his hopes were reaching a little _too _high.


End file.
